


All For A Box of Thin Mints

by ghostofgatsby



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Sex, Cigars, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Fixation, Roleplay, Smoking, girl scout cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Come on, Sips, open the fucking door.</em><br/>Ross tucks the clipboard under his arm and nervously tugs down the hem of his skirt. He really hopes Sips’ neighbors don't see him standing outside on the porch, for fuck's sake-<br/>Sips opens the door, clad in sweatpants and an open dressing gown. His hair is rumpled like he just got out of bed, and there's a lit cigar in his mouth.<br/>"Um- Good- good afternoon, sir,” Ross roleplays awkwardly, “I'm stopping by to ask if you'd like to purchase any cookies today. All proceeds go to-"<br/>"Do you have thin mints?" Sips asks blatantly. Ross nods. "Then I don't fucking care about why. Come in and shut the door behind you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All For A Box of Thin Mints

**Author's Note:**

> TL;DR: Ross dresses up like a camping scout and rides Sips in a recliner. Also, Sips smokes a cigar.  
> I can’t even use the “this was written at weird hours of the night” excuse. The Google doc is titled “wtf girlscout Sips3max” for a reason.  
> This is...weird, but...oh well? I honestly think Clean was weirder than this, so *shrug* I don’t know. It’s more about Ross in a pleated skirt than the uniform, really. I don’t remember if that came first when I was writing this, or the idea of Sips smoking a cigar. Don’t smoke, kids, it’s gross.
> 
> cw: smoking cigars, inappropriate usage of a mock scout uniform, very mild humiliation? slightly uncomfortable, awkward situations?, roleplaying, crossdressing? but clothing doesn’t have a gender, really...  
> If I need to tag something else, let me know.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/07/18/all-for-a-box-of-thin-mints-ghostofgatsby
> 
> http://generationstylefashion.tumblr.com/post/130048314726  
> (this says Sips to me. I like the suit jacket a lot.)

_Come on, Sips, open the fucking door._

Ross tucks the clipboard under his arm and nervously tugs down the hem of his skirt. He really hopes Sips’ neighbors don't see him standing outside on the porch, in a green pleated skirt that is almost but not quite fingertip length. Ross worries his lip between his teeth and sighs down at the sight of his pasty white and hairy legs. His dark leg hair contrasts against the knee high socks, which are bleached so white they scream “nerdy”. Out of this entire outfit, though, the shoes are the fucking worst. Ross doesn’t want to know how Sips got Mary Janes in his size.

 _What the fuck. Ugh._ Not for the first time, Ross wonders why he bothered to dress up for him. Sure, Sips indulged a lot of what he wanted, so it was only fair, but. Still.

Ross’ brain supplies him with the fantasy Sips had suggested, of a silly scenario where a sexy businessman seduced a not-so-innocent cookie-selling camping scout.

Ross adjusts the strap of his messenger bag and knocks harder. Two houses down, a sprinkler ticks back and forth across someone’s front lawn. _Hurry up and answer the door, dammit._ Where was he? Hopefully not taking a shit. Sips could sit for a stupid amount of time before his ass got numb, playing endless games on his Iphone. The neighbors’ dogs are barking- for fuck's sake, Ross _really_ doesn't want to be seen outside dressed like this-

Sips opens the door.

The businessman is clad in sweatpants and an open dressing gown. His hair is rumpled like he's just got out of bed, and there's a lit cigar in his mouth.

 _Where the fuck did he even get-_ Ross mentally shakes his head. It’s fucking _Sips_ , and honestly, the sight isn’t that surprising.

Ross can hear the sound of a television past the door. He looks up at down, from the man's gray eyes, to his grizzled, unshaven jaw line, and the chest hair that trails down to his belly button and past it.

Ross realizes he's staring and quickly snaps his gaze back up. "Um- Good- good afternoon, sir,” he roleplays awkwardly, “Sorry to bother you...uh..."

Sips puffs on his cigar and blows smoke into Ross' face, who coughs and waves it away.

"Give me the spiel, kiddo, come on," Sips drawls. He gestures vaguely and leans against the doorframe. "Don't got all day, what is it?"

"Uh- sorry?" Ross' eyes are watering from the smoke.

"My soaps are back on in a minute. Just give me the schtick. What are you selling, what charity are you for, what religion are you advertising?"

Soaps. Of course. Not golf today, no- soap operas.

"O-Oh, uh-" Ross watches Sips take another puff of his cigar. His cheeks hollow with the pull, smoke billowing from his mouth on the exhale. Ross shakes himself a little. "Well, sir,” he continues, “I'm stopping by to ask if you'd like to purchase any cookies today. All proceeds go to-"

"Do you have thin mints?" Sips asks blatantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, and-"

"Then I don't fucking care about why." Sips pushes away from the door and walks into the house. "Come in and shut the door behind you."

Ross frowns. He watches Sips disappear into the living room just hidden from view, cigar smoke trailing after him. He hears the sound of a reclining chair kicking back, and the swooping music of the stereotypical soap operas Sips watches.

 _Fucking hell_. Ross sighs to himself. _Here we go._

He quickly steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Hopefully no one saw him waiting outside, but he’s not going to peek out the blinds on the window to check.

Ross subconsciously straightens his uniform, adjusting his cravat, and tugging his skirt down a little more. He brushes his vest and the badges on it free of any cookie crumbs. Maybe he already opened the box he bought for himself because he forgot his lunch. He wasn’t going to admit it.

There's a mirror by the door, and Ross gives his hair a once-over. He makes a face at his reflection and walks into the living room.

Sips is paying more attention to the screen than him. He’s sitting in his recliner, one foot propped up on his other leg, with his cigar in one hand and the remote in the other. Ross puts his clipboard back into his messenger bag next to the box of thin mints, and shifts his feet. He’s not sure if he should take a seat, or just stand and wait. On the tv screen, characters are shown along with the theme music of Sips’ favorite dumb soap opera.

"You can sit down." Sips says, answering his unspoken question. “I’ll buy a box when my soaps are over.”

Ross sits onto the couch and sets his bag down at his feet, quickly remembering to keep his legs closed and blushing embarrassingly. He smooths out the fabric on his lap, chewing his lip and watching the soaps with Sips.

“Why do you watch these?” He asks aloud. The petty drama between characters just makes Ross want to roll his eyes. He’s seen short films with better acting. Fuck, he’s _done_ short films with better acting than this crap.

“Can’t go wrong with a good dose of bad drama.” Sips says, puffing on his cigar. The smoke mists around his head in a gray cloud.

Ross disagrees, but keeps quiet. He glances over at Sips in-between watching tv.

The businessman's lips pucker around the brown wrapping of the cigar as he smokes. Ross swallows thickly. He self-consciously tugs at the hem on his skirt and tries to pay attention to the tv instead.

When one of the soap dramas finishes, Sips stands up and stretches.

“Can I get you something to drink? I’m not the greatest host, am I, eh?” Sips chuckles. He looks over at Ross and scratches his stomach with half-lidded eyes. The cigar has burnt down a little more than halfway, and a thick pile of ash is stuck to the end.

“Er, um...” Ross swallows thickly. His eyes and throat are dry from the cigar smoke in the air. “Water is fine. Thanks.”

Ross nervously traces lines on the couch cushions, watching Sips walk past him into the kitchen. He hears the cabinets creak, and the water rush through pipes as Sips fills a glass from the tap. The tv drones afternoon infomercials on low.

Sips comes back into the living room and hands him the glass.

Ross sips his water slowly. He watches Sips smoke his cigar, and Sips watches him right back. The air smells peppery and toasted, like oiled leather. It makes Ross think of baseball gloves and the heat of summer burning into his skin. A little like burning leaves and bonfires.

Sips brushes his hand down the front of Ross’ vest. “I see you have a badge in...woodworking,” he drawls, poking the badge with his finger.

“I, uh- I also have badges in motorboating, plumbing, shooting...” Ross follows Sips’ fingers with his eyes as the other man traces the badges on his vest. “We do lots of camping and recreational water skiing on the lake.” He swallows thickly.

Sips hums, seemingly interested.

“I thought you didn’t care about the why?” Ross asks.

“I don’t. Not about why you’re selling cookies. But you- you’re a different matter.” Sips draws his fingers away, and takes a few more puffs of his cigar.

“I am?”

“Sure.” Sips blows out his last stream of smoke, and drops his cigar in the nearby ashtray. “Not often I get visitors as cute as you.”

Ross fidgets with his hands in his lap, smoothing the pleats on his skirt. Sips walks back over to his recliner and resumes sitting. “How about you come over here, eh?” He licks his lips and grins.

“You going to eat me up?” Ross asks teasingly. He feels like Sips is playing the wolf to his Red Riding Hood.

“Not like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, that’s for sure.” Sips smirks. “Come here, Ross.”

Ross hides a smile. He stands up and walks over to face Sips in his recliner.

A blush rises to his cheeks as Sips looks him over.

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you...fucking pervert.” Ross adds under his breath.

Sips snorts. “Mhm, sure.” He gives a pointed look towards Ross’ stirring arousal. “Turn for me, Ross.” He makes a spin motion with his finger.

Ross pivots with his hands on his hips. His heels clack together when he faces Sips again. He smirks.

“Very nice...” Sips moves his foot off of his lap and leans back, patting his thigh invitingly. “Come sit up here.”

Ross straddles Sips’ lap. A flush spreads across his body, up his thighs and across his chest.

Sips grins lewdly. He slides his hands up Ross’ legs and under the pleated hem of his skirt. His fingertips catch the lace and silk of Ross’ lingerie.

“Oh, so you _did_ put these on, after all?” he asks.

“It’s part of the uniform.” Ross answers shyly.

“A uniform I picked out. I wasn’t sure you’d actually wear them for me.”

“W-Well, I did.”

“Mhm...yes you did...” The pad of Sips’ thumb traces the head of Ross’ cock through the fabric.

Ross chokes off a whimper before it slips out.

“Fuck, you’re getting so hard already...aren’t you?” Sips breathes. He strokes Ross’ dick slowly, feeling him harden at the touch.

“Fuck, Sips...” Ross moans quietly. His eyes flutter shut.

Sips continues stroking him. “Shhh, that’s it...” He kisses under Ross’ jaw and in the hollow of his throat. One finger on his off hand works the knot in Ross’ cravat loose. The thin fabric is swept away, and Sips stops stroking Ross momentarily. He takes Ross’ wrists and ties them loosely behind his back.

“How’s that?” The question is a warm breath against his ear. Sips’ teeth graze his jawline.

“It’s- it’s good.” Ross answers quietly, licking his lips. He shifts on Sips’ lap. The fabric of his cravat shifts against his wrists. “Sips...” He opens his eyes.

Sips looks back at him, smile smug. His warm hands rub along Ross’ naked thighs, above the knee-high socks and before the lines of his lace-lined briefs. “Mmm...fantastic,” he purrs. He leans in and kisses him smoothly.

Ross kisses back with a muffled sigh against his lips. Sips tastes of the cigar he was smoking, and spearmint toothpaste.

Sips quickly undoes the buttons on Ross’ polo shirt and pulls the fabric aside. His lips and tongue map skin; his teeth graze over a nipple. The bridge of his nose tickles the faint whisper of hair on Ross’ chest.

Ross closes his eyes again. Sips’ stubble is scratchy where his lips are soft. He smells of smoke and liquor, with a touch of cologne and whatever vanilla-scented body wash he uses.

Ross hears the uncapping sound of lube, and then Sips’ hands are trailing behind his back, one pushing up the back of his shirt, and the other down the back of his skirt and lacy briefs

“Lift your hips for me, Ross. That’s it, good boy.”

Ross groans weakly, shifting up on his knees and leaning his forehead on Sips’ shoulder when he settles down again. The lube is cold and slick. Ross takes even breaths. Sips’ fingers press inside him slowly, teasingly, and steadily. One after the other, gently working him until he loosens up. Ross’ hands twist in their loose bindings. He likes it when his hands are like this, but in this position, he wants to touch. He rocks forward a little as Sips’ free hand slides around his hip. Sips undoes the button and zipper on his skirt. He tugs the front of Ross’ briefs down to wrap a hand around his dick.

“Sips...” Ross whines breathily. He presses his face into the other man’s neck.

Sips chuckles softly. “Almost there.” His hands curls inside him in time with his strokes, and Ross moans.

“Sips, please,” Ross tugs his hands in the loose makeshift restraints. “I-”

“Hm?” The hum vibrates against Ross’ throat. “Tell me what you want, Ross,” he murmurs, kissing down the side of Ross’ neck.

“Please-” Ross lifts his head. “I just want-” He meets Sips’ eyes.

Sips bites a kiss into Ross’ collarbones, stroking him slowly with the movement of his fingers.

Ross shudders. “Please let me touch you. Please?”

For several moments, Ross thinks Sips is going to keep teasing him. Sips bites another mark into his chest and Ross whimpers at the dual pain-pleasure it ensues.

“Good boy. Just a second.”

Sips carefully removes his fingers and pulls the tie loose behind Ross’ back.

Ross works his wrists free, and pulls down Sips’ track pants the minute he’s able. He wants to touch. Sips’ cock is thick and heavy in his hands. He strokes up and down the shaft with one hand and uses the other to try to lever himself up on his knees.

The recliner rocks with the sudden weight change. Sips places his hand in the middle of Ross’ back to steady him.

“Someone’s eager.” Sips groans.

Ross whines. “Fuck. Sips, please.”

“Alright. Hush, and sit up for a moment. Easy...”

Ross carefully shifts up on his knees, and Sips roughly tugs his briefs down his thighs. The white, lacy fabric bunches around Ross’ knees. Sips lines himself up and guides Ross slowly onto his dick. He groans when Ross settles all the way down.

“That’s it...there we go.” Sips heaves a heavy sigh, and leans back with a lazy, pleased grin. His hands splay on Ross’ hips. “Giddy up, then, dollface. Come on.” He pats Ross’ hip cheekily.

Ross rolls his eyes, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He waits a few breaths to get adjusted. When he’s ready, he uses Sips’ shoulders for leverage to rock himself down onto him. Sips thrusts up to meet him, and Ross grabs the back of the recliner when it lurches with them.

“Oh fuck...Sips...” His mouth falls open, lips parting with a stuttered groan. With every thrust, his dick rubs against the green fabric of his skirt, trapped underneath and making a wet patch on the front.

Sips’ hands curl on Ross’ hips. They rock steadily, and the recliner bounces with the movement.

Ross gasps quiet moans. Dammit, he’s never going to be able to hear the recliner again without thinking of _this_...

“Fuck, Ross. Shit.” Sips curses, panting softly.

“ _Sips._ ” Ross whines.

It always feels like so much sensation when he and Sips fuck like this. Sips kisses his neck and holds him close, and Ross basks in the steadily rising pleasure.

“ _Fuck_.” Ross groans loudly. When Sips angles it right, every thrust is good.

Sips curls an arm around Ross’ waist, and finishes him off with his other hand. Ross comes with a low moan in his- probably ruined, now- skirt.

“Come on, Ross, that’s it, fuck- so fucking good- _shit_.” The creaking of the recliner slowly fades as Sips fucks him until his own completion, with Ross still rocking forward and down onto him.

“Good boy, Ross.” Sips breathes quietly when they come to a stop. “ _Shit.._.”

Ross leans his forehead on Sips’ chest, panting, head tucked under his chin.

Once they’ve caught their breath, Sips pats Ross’ thigh. “Lift up for a minute, Ross. There we go.”

Ross shifts so he can sit properly in Sips’ lap, closing his eyes and letting the other man rub his back.

“Fuck...good job.”

Ross chuckles quietly. “Thanks.” He hears the television switch channels behind him.

“Told you the uniform was a good idea.” Sips boasts.

“Mm. Back to watching the soaps so soon?”

Sips shoves the remote back in the pocket of the recliner. “Fuck yeah, I ain’t missing that.”

“Even after fucking me? You bastard!”

“Thin mints are my only weakness...though your ass _is_ a close second.”

“Damn it.” Ross curses teasingly. “I’ve been beaten by a fucking girl scout cookie.”

Sips taps his fingers on Ross’ thighs. “You should go clean up.”

Ross groans and pleads with his eyes. “Do I have to?”

Sips smiles. “Yeah. Afraid so.” He kisses Ross’ sweaty forehead.

“Can I sit in your lap when I come back?” Ross asks.

“Mhm. I’ll even let you eat cookies.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Ross sighs and extracts himself from Sips’ lap. He tugs his skirt back into place on his hips as he heads towards the bathroom.

Sips wolf whistles.

Ross rolls his eyes and smiles.


End file.
